Hell to Hellmouth
by angelus cado
Summary: Harry gets thrown into Azkaban, and dies three years later. However, heaven and hell aren't ready for him yet. AU, season 6 onwards
1. Chapter 1

**Title: **Hell to Hellmouth

**Rating: **FR 15 or so, for potty mouth. I don't write sex scenes.

**Disclaimer: **Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling, Buffy and her crew are property of Joss Whedon and the writers over at Mutant enemy and all of those people. For fun, not profit.

**Summary: **Harry gets thrown into Azkaban for using the Unforgivables in his quest to defeat Voldemort. In his third year of incarceration he snuffs it, but instead of going to heaven or hell he gets transported somewhere else. Challenge # 972, "Wizard on Hell".

**Notes: **Well, this is the first 'serious' fic attempt from me in a good long while. Hopefully it's up to snuff, but if not you'll let me know, right? I'm aware of the fact that the first chapter is a little on the short side; hopefully future installments will be longer. If there are any problems, please gently point them out to me; feedback is much appreciated, peeps. Peace.

Chapter 1

Cold.

That's all he felt now, was the cold. Cold heart, cold soul, cold everything. Azkaban could do that to a man. The only thing that kept Harry sane was the fact that he _knew _what he had done was right. He had defeated Voldemort, after all; who cared if he had pulled a few strings and done some illegal things to do it? It was _Voldemort, _He Who Lived to Be Killed by the Scrawny Kid with the Glasses. However, the minister didn't see it that way, and as soon as the partying was over he threw him into Azkaban.

"_I'm sorry, dear boy, but rules are rules," Rufus Scrimgeour had said as the Aurors bound and gagged him. "I can get you a reduced sentence because of who you are and what you did, but we have to make sure that you're not a menace to society anymore. I do hope you understand…"_

_Ha, nope, _thought Harry as he lay on his bed. He'd barely been eating for the last little while, only taking in food when the guards were watching. Which, in reality, wasn't all that often. So, the already small man had taken on an almost skeletal look. However, it seemed as if no one really cared. Ron and Hermione had stopped visiting after six months, Remus after a year. The Dursley's were probably dancing a jig on his parent's graves, glad to finally be rid of him.

_I'm sure no one would give a damn if I just decided to up and croak, _Harry thought, almost gleeful. It was obvious that by now he wasn't in his right mind, having been in solitary confinement for so long. He'd been without his friends for two and a half years, his wand for nearly three. He wasn't due to get out for another two years, his sentence very reduced compared to the life sentence usually slapped on for using the Killing Curse.

So, on that night, Harry Potter made a conscious effort to die. Having the okay, his already strained body systems began to shut down one by one, and by midnight he was gone.

At least, from the Wizarding World…

Darkness and warmth assaulted Harry as someone or something tried to prod him awake. He batted at the offending person, wanting a few more moments of his blessed eternal sleep. At least, that's what he was supposed to be having, the Big Sleep. Not being poked and prodded by someone who was currently getting on the man's nerves.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" snarled Harry as he opened his eyes, glaring at the pudgy, unshaven and oddly smelly man dressed in a black and red robe. "Where the hell am I, anyway? And who are you?"

"You're in limbo, kiddo," the abnormally short man said, flipping through some pages on a clipboard in his hands. "You _are _the Potter kid, right?"

"Unfortunately," Harry mumbled. Sitting up, he looked at the man standing next to him. He was short, and upon closer inspection Harry noticed that he had slightly reddish skin and horns protruding out of his forehead. "Forget who are you, _what _are you?"

"I'm a limbo liaison," the dwarf-like man said. At Harry's blank look, he sighed and rolled his eyes in exasperation. "Jeez, crack a book sometime, would you? Wouldn't have killed you to be more like Herms, you know. Name's Mitch, but that ain't going to matter in a minute or two."

"Wait, you know about Hermione?" Harry asked, his heart leaping. "How is she doing? Are her and Ron still together? And what do you mean; it's not going to matter?"

"Sorry, I can't tell ya what's going on in your old world," Mitch replied. "And it ain't going to matter because in a few minutes you're going to be transplanted into a shiny new world. There's an opening for a guy who knows about things that go bump in the night, and you were the next in line. Since you're not quite done learning, down you go."

"So, that's just it?" Harry asked, obviously peeved. "You're going to send me off to some God-forsaken world with no protection, no defense and no wand? You're mental!"

"Well, not quite," said Mitch. "The guys downstairs are sending you off with this."

Seemingly out of nowhere, Mitch pulled out a sword. It was a beautiful double-edged broadsword, made of some sort of black substance. Harry touched the handle, and immediately he sensed that there was something wrong with it.

"That's a cursed blade," Harry said, jumping back slightly. "Take it back, I don't want it."

"You've messed with the dark side, kid," said Mitch. "What the hell were you expecting from Lucifer himself? Fluffy bunnies?"

"Well, no, but…" Harry began, but he was cut off.

"But nothing boy," Mitch concluded. "That's gonna be your only defense from the demons and vampires, and you're damn well going to take it with you. You're going to end up dog meat otherwise."

"Where in Merlin's name are you sending me!" Harry exclaimed. "Some whacked out hell dimension?"

"Nope," Mitch replied with a smirk. "We're sending you to La Boca Del Inferno. Hasta la vista, baby."

With a gleeful and somewhat evil giggle, Mitch pulled a lever and the floor beneath Harry gave just as he translated the phrase. _The Hellmouth, _he thought as he fell. _They're sending me to the fucking Hellmouth. I can't believe it!_

Harry landed with a loud 'oof' on top of a patch of freshly dug earth. Looking up, he noticed a headstone. Before he could read it, though, he heard scratching noises beneath him. He scrambled away just in time to see an earth-encrusted hand break through the surface.

"Oh shit."


	2. Chapter 2

**Hell to Hellmouth**

**Disclaimer: **As much as I'd love to have thought of these characters and become a multimillionaire because of it, I didn't, so I'm not. For fun, not profit.

**Notes: **I'd like to thank my three lovely reviewers: azulkan, Cristina, EllandrahSylver and spacey. Your kind words and encouragement make me feel special, and have caused me to make a quick update.

Obviously, this is AU…I'm thinking from about a quarter-way through Season Six to the end. Sound good to you guys?

Chapter 2

"_Oh shit."_

The hand was followed by an arm, then a shoulder and a head. Within a matter of moments, a man had dug himself out of his grave and was dusting the dirt off of his nice tailored suit. He turned to Harry, who was looking at him in awe.

"Well, isn't this just swell?" asked the man, his face morphing into a demonic visage. "Do all vampires get a free meal when they awaken, or am I just special?"

_Vampire! _Harry's inner voice screamed as he was frozen to the spot. _Bloody hell, this is not boding well for me, is it? I can't even die right, and now this! What am I, flypaper for freakish happenings!_

Harry's fight-or-flight instinct kicked in at that moment, and it was telling him to run like the wind. And, as soon as he scrambled to his feet, Harry was off like a shot, his sword strapped to his back unused. He could hear the vampire hot on his heels, and Harry knew that his frail body wouldn't be able to keep up the pace for much longer. Making it look like he fell so that the vampire would pounce on him, Harry rolled out of the way and drew his sword. Standing upright he held his sword with two hands, ready to strike.

"Ooh, lookie lookie, the rookie has a new toy," the vampire said, advancing on Harry. With one quick swipe, Harry chopped off the vampire's head.

Harry smiled slightly to himself and was about to sheath his sword again when he was faced with the business end of a crossbow, wielded by a very pretty and quite tiny blonde person. He quickly dropped his sword and held his hands up in surrender, getting the impression that this woman would shoot first and ask questions later, if he were still alive.

"What the hell are you?" she asked, zero room for argument in her voice.

"I-I don't know what you mean," Harry said, frightened. However, he couldn't help but notice how pretty the girl was. It had been well over three years since he had been with anyone _that way, _though, so he could be very biased. Besides, knowing his luck she was taken, or gay. Or gay and taken.

"I'll ask you one more time," the girl said, shoving the front of the crossbow under his nose. "What. The. Hell. Are. You. If you don't answer this time, you're going to meet Mr. Pointy, who doesn't like undead things."

"Here's news for you, Blondie," Harry said, getting some of his bite back. "I'm human. Stakes don't affect me. Now, what's a pretty, innocent girl like you doing out in a scary cemetery like this?"

"There is no way you're human," the girl said, though she lowered the crossbow. It was still ready to shoot at a moment's notice, but at least it wasn't pointed at Harry's face. "No regular human could take on a vampire and win."

"Guess what, Blondie, I am and I did," Harry retorted. Not the most original of quips, but it was pretty good for someone who hadn't really done much thinking in three years. He sheathed his sword before continuing. "Now, get out of my way."

He tried to brush past her, but she stepped into his path. She did it again as he tried to sidestep her from the other side.

"Okay, what do you want, you annoying pain in my arse?" asked Harry with a sigh, rolling his eyes. "Make it quick, though, I haven't got all night."

"I want some answers," the girl replied. "How about we start with what's your name and what's your business in Sunnydale?"

"As long as you give _me _some answers in return," Harry shot back. "Sound fair?"

The girl seemed to think about it, and for a moment Harry thought she would bring the crossbow back up. After a few moments of silence, she nodded.

"So, state your name and business," the woman said, all business.

"My name is Harry Potter, and I'm on the lookout for someone, or a group of someones who apparently need my help," Harry replied. "Unfortunately, my…err…bosses, didn't tell me who I was to look for. Bloody nuisance, that was. And they dropped me on a fledgling's grave. The nerve! Anyway, your turn. What's your name and what are you doing brandishing a crossbow at innocent passersby? Didn't your mother tell you not to play with pointy objects?"

"My name is Buffy, I'm the Slayer and my mother is dead," the girl, henceforth referred to as Buffy, said, her voice taking on a dead quality.

"Oh shit, I'm sorry," said Harry. "I know what it's like; both my parents are dead. How long ago did it happen?"

"Six month or so ago," Buffy replied.

"Oh shit, really sorry…still fresh," Harry said, now feeling really bad. This wasn't good; the first person who had somewhat willingly talked to him after two and a half years probably had the worst impression of him. _Must…find…subject change,_ Harry thought. "So, uhh…this is the Hellmouth, huh?"

"Yep," Buffy replied, putting her crossbow away. Harry took this as a signal that he wasn't on the verge of being killed and picked up his sword from the ground. He strapped it to his back, patting the handle before turning to Buffy, who was looking at him funny.

"What?" Harry asked, arching an eyebrow. Buffy shook her head, as if she were trying to shake something loose, before replying.

"Nothing, nothing," Buffy replied softly, before brightening up slightly. "Come on, let's get out of here. We have to go and get cleaned up and…what in the name of fashion are you wearing?"

Harry looked down, still unaware of what he was wearing when he landed. And, as it turned out, he was in his prison garb. It consisted of an ill-fitting thin grey robe and cheap shoes that were on the verge of falling apart. "What's wrong with what I'm wearing?"

"Hmmm, there are so many things wrong with that question," Buffy replied. "Come on, let's go before…"

"Well, well, well, lookit what we've got here," said man with a very distinct Cockney accent. Buffy turned around, and Harry could see her stiffen slightly as she did so. Harry was at the ready to dole out the damage, but a hand held up from Buffy made him stop. For now, anyway.

"What do you want, Spike?" Buffy asked with a tired sight. The bleached-blond man arched an eyebrow.

"Aww, don't be like that luv," he said. Harry saw Buffy close her eyes, and knew the move well; he did that every time he was trying not to punch someone in the nose. "How about you and I ditch the poufter in the dress and nip off to my crypt for a go?"

"Uh, still here you know," said Harry, waving his hand half-heartedly. "And, you know, my ears are working just fine."

"Be quiet and let the big boys take their turn, aye?" said Spike, giving Harry a pointed look before turning back to Buffy. "So, what do you say?"

"I'm saying no, Spike," Buffy replied. "Come on Harry, let's get out of here."

Buffy grabbed Harry by the hand and began dragging him away with an amazing amount of strength for someone of her size. They'd barely gotten three steps before Spike was in front of them, looking thoroughly pissed off.

"Come on, once you go demon, you never go back," he said with a smirk. _I have had enough, _Harry thought, irritated. This man reminded him of Malfoy, and that just wouldn't go. In one fell swoop, Harry had pulled out his sword and had it pointed at Spike's chest.

"Go away, now," he said firmly. "The lady says no, and what the lady says goes."

"Whoa, alright mate, alright," said Spike, holding up his hands in surrender. "No need to bring out the cursed blade or anything. I'm going, I'm going."

And without another word, Spike turned and left, his leather duster billowing in the nonexistent wind. Buffy looked at Harry, blinking several times in shock.

"Thanks," she said, still in awe. "Can I keep you? Please? I've been trying to make him go away for the longest time. You're the only person to have actually done it."

"It was nothing, really," Harry replied, rubbing the back of his neck uncomfortably. Buffy arched an eyebrow at him. "What? It wasn't! It's kinda what I do. So…are we going to get out of here any time soon, or is the cemetery just the hip place to be? Because really, it's beginning to give me the shakes."

Buffy just patted Harry on the shoulder and began leading him out of the cemetery and (hopefully) out of harm's way.

Obviously, feedback is appreciated.


End file.
